The Music Man
by DigimonDragonLady
Summary: A Gundam Wing version of Meredith Willson's musical The Music Man in which Duo Maxwell plays a smooth talking conartist salesman determined to sell River City Iowa a boy's band and win the heart of the small town librarian. 2x1, 3x4 and mentioning of othe
1. Chapter One

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Dragon Lady: ***stares at story faintly* **_I must be sick._

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Trowa: _Is something wrong, dl?_

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Ken: ***looks at story and taps Trowa on shoulder wordlessly***

Trowa: _What?_

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Ken: ***points at story in shock***

Trowa: ***stares at story as well***

Ken: _Wow. _

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Trowa: _I don't believe it._

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Ken: _I'm not sure I've ever seen anything quite so strange. And coming from dl, that's saying something._

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Dragon Lady: ***still staring blankly***

Trowa: ***shakes head* **_A--A 1x2 story? _**///_o;; **_Not a 1x2 song fic, but the beginnings of a chapter story focusing on…1x2?! _

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Ken: _And slight 3x4? Isn't "slight" what she usually says about the 1x2 in her other stories? _**o.o;;**

Dragon Lady: _So…um…I don't own Gundam Wing. Or Duo, Heero, Wufei, Trowa, Quatre or any of the other characters I'll use in this story, they belong to Sunset and Bandi. Oh. And I don't own the musical The Music Man (which this fic is follows) either. The credit for that belongs to Meredith Willson. _

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Ken: _So, read and hopefully you'll enjoy._

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Trowa: _And if you did enjoy, be sure to leave a nice little review, no matter how brief you want to make it, by clicking the button at the bottom of the screen._

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Dragon Lady: _Yaoi alert.** 2x1 **centric, slight **3x4**, and a mentioning of **13x11**, **5xS** and possibly **6x9**, but not very sure about that last pairing. And for those picky people, I'll go ahead and say OOC, but personally, since this is obviously an AU fic, I don't really care much about OOC warnings outside of the Gundam Universe. _

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The Music Man

DigimonDragonLady

The old whistle blew its final shrill warning as the old, white-haired conductor made his way down the aisle to check that all those riding his train were in their proper seats. A few of the men in the cramped little train car, who had boarded just moments earlier, were curiously out of breath and a suspicious mob of pitchfork carrying townsfolk could be seen from the window, but everything else appeared to be in order.

"Departing Springfield Station, Illinois," he announced to the passengers, who's group appeared to be made up completely of traveling salesmen. "Next stop, River City, Iowa."

Then he moved on and the steam engine started up with a jerk, throwing everyone forward in their seats.

"What's the matter with credit?" one man asked his neighbor, as if he were continuing a previous conversation, as he dealt them out their cards.

"It's old fashioned, that's what," his companion answered as he picked up his cards and spread his hand. "Hey, Trent," he called over to another man suddenly. "Your company runs a fairly good business, do you make it on credit?"

"No, sir," Trent answered firmly. "Cash for the merchandise."

"You can talk all you want, but it's different than it was," another man joined in the conversation.

"No it ain't, but you've gotta know the territory."

"It's the Model T. Ford [1] that's made the trouble. Made the people wanna go, wanna get, wanna get up and go," one of the men complained. "Twenty-three miles to the county-seat to some little bitty two by four kinda store."

"Ever met a fellow by the name of Maxwell?" 

"Maxwell?"

"Maxwell?"

"No."

"Never heard of any salesman, Maxwell."

"Now he doesn't know the territory."

"Doesn't know the territory?"

"What's the fellow's line?"

"Never worries 'bout his line."

"Never worries 'bout his line?!"

"Or a doggone thing. Why, he makes up his speeches as he goes right along, just as cool as you please. That's Professor Duo Maxwell."

"He's a fake and he doesn't know the territory!" a man shouted.

"He's a music man."

"He's a what?"

"A what?"

"He's a music man," the man who had started this branch of the conversation repeated. "And he sells clarinets to the kids in the town with the big trombones and the rat-a-tat drums. And the piccolo. With uniforms, too."

"Uniforms?"

"With the shiny gold buttons and a stripe down the side," he nodded in affirmation.

"Well, I don't know much about bands, but I do know you can't make a living selling big trombones."

"I dunno how he does it, but he lives like a king. And he dallies and he gathers and he plucks and he shines. And when the man dances, what else? The piper pays _him_."[2]

"But he doesn't know the territory!"

The train on which they were riding ground to a sudden halt, and they were once more thrown forward in their seats. The conductor was walking down the aisle again.

"River City," he informed them. "River City. Just crossed the state line into Iowa. Population, River City, Twenty-two hundred and twelve." He tapped Trent on the shoulder. "Cigarettes are illegal in this state."

Trent scowled and put out the smoke he had just lit. He looked around as the conductor moved on. "All right, gentlemen, if you're all through, I'll tell you about this fellow, Maxwell."

"Say, you know Maxwell?"

"Never seen him before in my life, but I've just been run out of town because of Maxwell. Every town I've been to lately, I've come to behind him. The people don't even wait for you to put up your pitch anymore, they're ready with the tar and feathers the moment you step off the train. And it's all because of this Maxwell character."

Trent slammed his fist down on his seat. "He's given every one of us a black eye."

"Now how do you account for a thing like that?" someone asked him.

"He goes around selling band instruments, and uniforms, and instruction books by guaranteeing to teach t he kids to play. And organize them kids into a band with himself as the leader."

"Stands to reason."

"Oh, sure, he talks a good talk. And he paints a real pretty picture in those townsfolk's minds, gold buttoned uniforms and all."

"Well, what's wrong with that?"

"He don't know one note from another!" Trent howled in anger. "That's what's wrong with that. He don't know a base drum from a pipe organ."

"What?!"

"He's a swindler and a thief! Just a no-good, no-account, low life, yellow-bellied, pickpocket cheat! When the day of truth finally arrives, he just collects those people's money and then skips out of town."

"He doesn't!"

"Oh, yes sir, he does," Trent growled. "And I'm gonna catch up with him one of these days, you know. And when I do, I'm gonna have the law on him so fast -- Territory's tough enough without him around to mess things up."

"I sure would like to be around when you catch up with him," someone laughed.

"Well, I'm not about to catch up with him in _Iowa_," Trent sneered. "He's too smart to pull that flim-flam out here. Not on these neck-bowed [3] hawk eyes."

The train whistle warning went off again, and a man jumped up from his seat, where he had been sitting silently, observing the conversation for the entire ride. "Gentlemen, you intrigue me," he said, as he hurriedly checked over his things. "I think I'll have to give Iowa a try." His unique violet eyes glittered with prospect.

"Sorry, friend, but I don't believe I caught your name," Trent drawled in reply.

"Because I don't believe I dropped it," he answered with a mischievous grin as he hefted his enormous traveling case from the floor of the train, seemingly unintentionally exposing the side for their inspection.

It read, simply, in large, bold letters: Prof. Duo Maxwell.

"Good day, gentlemen, and good luck to you." He tipped his hat respectfully and quickly exited, just as the train started up. 

Upon observing the dumbfounded and enraged expressions on their faces as they stared, or in one case, glared, out the windows at him, he only grinned more broadly and gave a small wave at the departing engine.

* * *

"Well, well," Duo nodded conversationally to himself as he took a look around him. "Let's just see how much River City is in desperate need of one of Duo Maxwell's famous boys bands, now shall we?"

He noticed a train station attendant walking by, and made to stop him. "Uh, sir--" he began, and then stopped when the man continued walking past without so much as even glancing in his direction.

He blinked in surprise, but continued on his own way with a small shrug. Maybe the man was very busy and didn't have time for any questions.

As he made his way across a grassy field toward the start of the town, he ran into a man watering his horse from a water bucket. "Say, friend, that's a mighty fine lookin' animal," he offered conversationally.

The man stared at him blankly and finally answered, "For a horse, yeah."

Duo smiled and thought that perhaps it was best to continue on his way.

Next he tried speaking with a man tending his garden of cabbages. "Good morning, neighbor," Duo greeted him cheerfully. "Could you kindly direct me which way is the center of town?"

The man paused in his work, stilling his hoe, and gave Duo a look which took in everything from his violet eyes and waist length braid to his tweed suit and traveling case. "Runs right down the middle of the street," he answered dryly, before resuming his previous activity and paying Duo no more attention.

Duo tipped his hat to him and moved quickly along. And some people complained about _his_ sense of humor. He had reached the town at this point, and he stopped a store owner who was busy sweeping off his doorstep.

"Excuse me, friend, where would I find a good hotel?" he inquired, his smile having become a bit forced at this point.

"Try the Palmer House in Chicago."

Duo sighed in consternation. "Well, you folks certainly know how to make a body feel at home," he grumbled in his good-natured way.

"Oh, there's nothing halfway about the Iowa way to treat you when we greet you," a salesclerk told him from where he was arranging apples in an outdoors display.

"Which we may not do at all," a second clerk added.

"You don't say?" Duo grinned.

"So, what the heck, you're welcome, glad to have you with us. Even though we many not ever mention it again."

"Well, I appreciate that," he returned. "Nothing wrong with hearing a little honesty these days."

By this time there was a small crowd of curious folks surrounding him, and Duo wondered exactly how many strangers they got passing through River City.

"We can be cold as a mercury thermometer in December if you ask about our weather in July," a woman standing nearby jumped eagerly into the conversation.

"And we're so by God stubborn we could stand touchin' noses for a week and never see eye to eye," her husband declared, and Duo laughed in delight.

"So, you ought to give Iowa a try!" The crowd seemed to nod their agreement as a single mass entity, and Duo knew that he was going to do just that.

Just then, the crowd parted for a small group of people, allowing them to walk down the wooden sidewalk of the stores unhindered. The man in the lead wore a large top hat over his ginger colored hair and was mopping the perspiration from his brow with a lace handkerchief.

"Mornin' Mayor Kushrenada," a young boy piped up.

"Good morning, Mayor Kushrenada," the crown murmured respectfully.

"It is if you want to go around in your drawers all day," the mayor snapped waspishly in reply as his group continued on its way.

The crowd dispersed, and Duo was soon left standing completely alone once more. "What an odd little town," he mused thoughtfully, before turning his attention to a horse stable nearby. Maybe he could find someone there who would point him in the direction of a good hotel.

"Hello?" he called out as he entered the barn stables area and looked around for some form of help. "Anyone here?"

"Anyone?" a voice echoed back. "No one here by that name."

Duo found the voice coming from the closest horse stall eerily familiar, and he struggled, wracking his brains to place it, and snapping his fingers when he did. "Chang!" he exclaimed. "Wufei Chang!"

An Asian man with dark onyx eyes and black hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail emerged quickly from the stall and stared back at Duo in dumbfounded fascination. 

"Solo!" he shouted back, his mouth twisting up into an odd half smile. "Of all the people to see in Iowa, Solo!"

"Shh!" Duo threw an arm around his shoulders and motioned for him to keep his voice down. "Maxwell's the name this trip," he replied. "Professor Duo Maxwell."

"Maxwell, huh?" Wufei returned. "Well, if that doesn't beat all. Running into you in a place like River City," he shook his head in amusement.

"Say," Duo took in his one time partner's appearance. "You don't mean to say that you live in this town?"

"Yes, that's right," Wufei nodded in agreement. "And I like it, too. I mean, it's no Brooklyn but--"

"Hey," Duo narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously. "Are you hiding out or what?"

"No, nothing like that," Wufei chuckled slightly at his reaction, and then shrugged casually. "I'm just not as light on my feet as I was when I was working with you. I've got a nice job now. A place to call home. And Sally Po; that's the boss's niece."

"So, you're actually settling down somewhere," Duo shook his head sympathetically, but his grin and wink told Wufei that he was only teasing. "Well, I always knew that you'd come to no good."

* * *

"Hey, so tell me, what are you selling now?" Wufei asked curiously. He and Duo had spent the last hour lounging around on some hay bails outside of the barn reminiscing about the old times they'd had together. "Last I heard about you, you were into steam automobiles."

"I was," Duo answered with a nod.

"Well, what happened there?"

"Somebody actually invented one."

"You're kidding!"

Duo shrugged in a well, what can I do about it kind of way. "So, now I'm back at the old stand."

"Not boy's bands?" Wufei asked, and frowned when Duo nodded his agreement. "Well, they ain't got no call for boys bands in this town," he told him apologetically. "Anything these people don't already have, they do without."

"They got music?"

"A stuck up librarian gives piano," Wufei answered with a slight shrug. "Oh, he'll expose you before you can even get this band idea off the ground," he warned.

"Oh, don't you worry about me, Wufei," Duo grinned recklessly in response to the caution. "Dealing with stuck up piano teachers is a specialty of mine. You just point him out and I'll back him into a corner and breathe on his glasses."

They both got a chuckle out of that.

Then Wufei looked at his pocket watch. "There she blows," he nodded his head toward a woman with nut brown hair pulled back into two tightly braided buns and full moon spectacles perched on her nose who was hurrying down the sidewalk with a vengeance. "Right on schedule, too," he added.

"I thought you said the librarian was a he," Duo frowned.

"Oh, no, that's not the librarian," Wufei shook his head. "That's Mrs. Kushrenada, the mayor's wife. She makes me feel almost sorry for Heero; he has to deal with her every time he loans her nephew one of his books."

Duo raised an eyebrow, but made no further comment.

* * *

Heero carefully stamped the books being checked out with a return date., and the line of children waiting to check them out moved along at a steady rate. Heero prided himself in being efficient in his job. He looked up when the next person in line did not present their book to be stamped, and blinked.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Kushrenada," he greeted the mayor's wife politely.

"Don't change the subject," she instructed severely, and Heero blinked again.

"Is something the matter?" he inquired.

"The same this is the matter as is always the matter. Look." A book was slammed down on his counter in a huff, and Heero spent a moment studying it before raising his head to meet her eyes again. "Is this the kind of book you give my nephew to read?" she demanded angrily. "I am appalled."

"Well, I did recommend it," Heero admitted. "It's beautiful Persian poetry."

"Beautiful Persian poetry?" she repeated as if in extreme shock that he would ever call the book such a thing. "A book talking about people lying out in the woods eating sandwiches? Getting drunk? Drinking directly out of jugs with innocent young girls?!"

"It's a classic," Heero answered meekly.

"It's a smutty book."

"Now really, Mrs. Kush--" Heero began to protest, but he was cut off.

"None of your excuses," she snapped. "Just you keep your dirty books away from my nephew!"

Heero scowled at her back as she marched out of the library, and slammed his stamp down on the open book of the next child in line in anger.

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[1]. Henry Ford (1863-1947), began selling the Model T in 1909, when horses and wagons were still common place, there were no highways, and most roads were still not paved. The 'T' was the first car that the average person could afford to buy, and when it hit the market, it was the beginning of the end of the 'horse and buggy era'. 

[2]. To pay the piper means "to bear the consequences of something". This twist means that he never has had to pay for his actions – even profiting from them without consequences.

[3]. Neck-bowed: bowtie wearing Iowans from Hawkeye

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Dragon Lady: ***nervously***So, what does everyone think so far? Is it good? Do you like it? Hate it? Want me to scrap it and try again? I know I've taken a musical and turned into…well, a fan fic that's not a musical at all, but just bear with me please?

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Trowa: _You had better not "scrap" this!_

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Ken: _Your muses would be incredibly insulted._

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Dragon Lady: **^^;;; **_Um…and I've taken the songs from the music man and turned them completely into dialogue, and added some of my own into there, as any fan of The Music Man can tell. The first scene was almost made up completely of the song Rock Island, and I know that the train ride seemed awfully short, but there wasn't much I could do to flesh it out anymore than that that, as I have no idea how long it would take a steam engine to get from a point in Illinois to Iowa. _

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Ken: ***elbows dl* **_Psst. Dl. You're babbling._

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Dragon Lady: _Am I? _***sighs* **_Sorry. I just hope that somebody enjoyed this…and that I didn't butcher one of my favorite musicals by turning it into horrible fan fiction. And this is actually more of a 2x1 than a 1x2 as Duo's playing Professor Harold Hill from the music man and Heero's got the part of Merrian the librarian…._

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Trowa: _Dl…_

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Dragon Lady: _And I blame Wil for my new obsession with seeing Heero as a librarian. Your Mummy fic has ruined me, Wil._** =P **_But I especially hope that you've enjoyed this. So there you have it, and non-angsty 1x2. Or 2x1 as the case would have it. Or…well, whatever! _**^^;;;**

Trowa: _Please Review. Maybe it would make dl stop her incessant babbling and get some more work done on the fic… _**///_-;;;**

Ken: _Or maybe not. Let's not go as far as to say that… _**^^;;;**

Dragon Lady: _And my notes come from an online dictionary for The Music Man done by Mike Jones and Nancy West, who whoever they are, did a wonderful job of explaining the language used in the early to mid-1900's and taught me a lot of things that I didn't know. _**^^**


	2. Chapter Two

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Dragon Lady: _Yay, I got another chapter out. _**^_^v**

Ken: ***waves little flag dully* **_Well aren't you just typing up a storm._

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Trowa: ***blinks* **_What's wrong with you? She's updating a Digimon story too, remember._

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Ken: ***sighs* **_I'm bored._

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Dragon Lady: _Bored? Your not allowed to be bored. You're my muse._

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Ken: _One of the very reasons that I'm bored right there._

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Trowa: _You call life with dl boring? _**///_^;;;**

Dragon Lady: _That's not very nice of you. _**=P**

Ken: ***shrugs indifferently* **_Whatever._

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Trowa: **///_^;;**

Dragon Lady: _Um…yes, well. Anyway. I've finally gotten the second chapter of this story out. However, it's been somewhat difficult with ff.net malfunctioning. _**-_-;; **_Well, that's okay, though. Just as long as I'm able to post my stories somewhere, I'm happy. _**^^;;**

Ken: _Yes, well, you know the saying simple minds…_

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Dragon Lady: _You're in a surly mood today, muse._ **=P **_Go pick a fight with one of my other voices if you're that bored. Preferably not Trowa too, because he'll be helping me with this story._

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Trowa:_ Remember to review…_

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The Music Man

By: DigimgonDragonLady

"Well, let me take you down to the city hotel and get you set up," Wufei offered, making as if to rise from the bench on which they were currently seated, but Duo put out a hand to stop him.

"No, no," he said, shaking his head. "I haven't decided if I'm staying or not. It all depends." Wufei nodded his understanding and they lapsed into silence for a moment. But Duo was never one to let silence stand long. "So, tell me, what do you talk about here in River City?" he asked.

"Well, the weather," Wufei answered, and then looked up at the clear evening sky overhead. "…When it's in season…"

"Now, Wufei, I need some ideas if I'm going to get your town out of the serious trouble it's in," Duo told him with a completely straight face.

"But, River City isn't in any trouble," Wufei returned.

"Not yet, anyway," Duo waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "We're going to have to create some. Must create a desperate need in your town for a boy's band."

Then Duo frowned and craned his neck to observe a cluster of people peering into a nearby window. "Say," he began curiously, "Why does everybody keep rubbering into the Billiard Parlor?"

Wufei followed his gaze. "They just got in a new pool table," he replied casually.

"Oh, they must have seen a pool table before," Duo laughed in a questioning way, a touch surprised at Wufei's answer.

"No," Wufei shook his head. "Just billiards." [1]

Duo looked thoughtful for a moment, and then snapped his fingers. "That'll do it," he nodded. "You just sit tight and watch me work," he instructed Wufei. "And remember to signal if you see that librarian."

He moved his hands in the air as if he were playing an invisible piano, and Wufei mirrored the movement, uttering an affirmative, "Right."

Duo hurried over to a man wearing a clerks apron, who was standing outside of the General Store. He grabbed the man by the arm to get his attention. "Excuse me, sir, but would you happen to be the owner of this store?"

"Yes, that's me," the man nodded.

"And has it by any chance," Duo continued quickly, "come to your attention that right next door to your fine establishment is a Billiard Parlor that has just gotten a pool table?"

"Well, yes--" he replied in confusion, but was cut off by Duo.

"Well, ya got trouble, my friend," Duo shook his head in sympathy, giving off the impression of grave seriousness. "Right here, I say trouble right here in River City."

When he was sure he had the man's complete attention, he went on. "Sure, I'm a billiard player and I'm always mighty proud to say it. I consider the hours I spend with a cue in my hand as golden. Helps you cultivate horse sense and a cool head and a keen eye. But just as I say it takes judgment, brains and maturity to score in a balk-line game, I say that any boob can take and shove a ball in a pocket. Not a respectable game at all."

At this point Duo was attracting more and more people, customers and townsfolk to listen to his speech about the immoralities of the game of pool. Wufei was impressed with his ability to draw the crowd and easily captivate their complete attention within seconds of opening his mouth. He'd almost forgotten how good Duo was at this. The man was a born actor, and at the moment, was right in his element. Duo could work with people. Any person. He focused back in on what was being said.

"I say, first medicinal wine from a teaspoon, and then beer from a bottle! And the next thing you know your son is playing for money in a pinch-back [2] suit and listenin' to some out-o'-town jasper [3] tell about horse race gamblin'," Duo appealed to the females and mothers in the crowd.

There was some scattered muttering.

"And I'm not talking about a wholesome trottin' race, mind you," Duo warned with the air of someone who was about to bestow dire news. "But a race where they set down right on the horse!" [4]

Several gasps accompanied this statement of his, and the listeners focused on Duo all the more intently. In their eyes, as it hadn't been proven otherwise, Duo was someone with a good upbringing and old fashioned sense warning them of the dangers in the world outside of River City Iowa.

"All week long your River City youth'll be fritterin' away. Noontime, suppertime, chore time, too. I'm thinking' of the kids in the knickerbockers, shirt tailed young ones peekin' in the Pool Hall window after school. Ya got trouble, folks, with a capital 'T' and that rhymes with 'P' and that stands for pool!"

Duo pointed toward the Billiard Parlor, where a bunch of youngsters had already gathered, for emphasis. "Now one fine night they'll leave the Pool Hall headin' for the dance at the Armory. Libertine men and scarlet women, and ragtime[5]. Shameless music that'll grab your son, your daughter into the arms of a jungle animal instinct -- massteria!"

"Mothers of River City, heed this warning before it's too late," Duo advised. "Watch for the tell tale signs of corruption. The minute your son leaves the house, does he rebuckle his knickerbockers _below_ the knee? [6] Is there a nicotine stain on his index finger? A dime novel hidden in he corn crib? Are certain words creeping into his vocabulary? Words like --" Duo paused, "'Swell'? Or, 'so's your old man'?"

He nodded with conviction. "Well, if so, ya got trouble. That game with the fifteen numbered balls is the Devil's tool! Gotta figure out a way to keep the young ones moral after school."

Wufei nodded in admiration, and had to prevent himself from falling under Duo's spell as well. He suddenly remembered his role in all of this, and turned to look at the large library building down the main street, and doing a double take when he saw Heero Yuy coming their way. He slipped through the crowd to a place where he was certain Duo could clearly see him, and intentionally caught his eye. He gave the signal, jerking his head in Heero's direction.

Duo gave a slight nod, and allowed his eyes to travel to the loan figure walking down the road. He had to restrain himself from whistling in appreciation. He looked at his audience and wrapped up his presentation in a hurry.

"Now folks, let me show you what I mean. You've got six pockets in a table. Pockets that mark the difference between a gentleman and a bum, with a capital 'B' and that rhymes with 'P' and that stands for pool. Remember my friends, listen to me, because I pass this way just once."

With that he allowed the crowd of now concerned townsfolk to argue and debate among themselves while he headed after the librarian.

* * *

Duo walked silently behind the librarian for about half a block, observing him for a while. Duo's mind had already come to the same assessment of the librarian that Wufei had, and agreed that Heero Yuy might indeed be trouble. He decided he'd better do something in a hurry.

Duo moved quickly in around in front of Heero and tipping his hat in friendly greeting, prepared to start up a conversation. But the librarian merely ignored him and continued walking right by. Duo frowned, but he was much too determined to back down.

He pulled out a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his vest and when he had once again caught up, attempted another ploy for Heero's attention.

"Excuses me," he began, "did you drop your--"

"No."

Duo grinned at the stony response. Oh he did love a good challenge now and again, and Heero Yuy was proving to be just that.

"But, didn't I meet you in --"

"No."

Heero turned into the walkway of a house and made his way up the porch steps of his home. Duo paused just outside fence. 

"I'll only be in town a short while," he said.

"Good." The front door slammed on him.

"Well, how do you like that." Duo leaned thoughtfully against the white picket fence. "Looks like this one'll be more work then I originally thought."

But an optimistic smile remained as he turned and walked away.

* * *

Heero had arrived home to find his evening pupil, Lucretzia Noin, already seated and practicing at the piano. She looked up expectantly as he came in the door.

"Am I doing all right, Mister. Yuy?" she asked anxiously.

"That's fine, Noin," he nodded absently as he set down a stack of books he was carrying on the table and moved to peer through the sitting room curtains at something outside that rather seemed to be annoying him. His eyes narrowed and he dropped them back into place as Relena entered the room.

"Oh, Heero," she smiled. "You're home. I thought I heard the front door slam."

Noin giggled softly, attempting to muffle the sound with her hand, and Relena winked at the girl as if she were a co-conspirator in some secretive scheme. Heero resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Hard day at the library?" Relena asked sympathetically. "Mrs. Kushrenada giving you trouble again?"

"And a man with a suitcase followed me home," Heero answered, nodding his head in partial agreement with her.

"Oh?" Relena was practically radiating curiosity.

"Hn." Heero grunted, and walked over to stand beside the piano. He needed to be worrying about his student before attempting to satisfy Relena's insatiable curiosity.

He nodded as he listed to Noin playing her cross hand piece. "So do la re ti mi," he recited along as she played. "A little slower and please keep the fingers curved as nice and high as you possibly can. Don't speed up," he warned her.

"Yes, Mister Yuy."

"So?" Relena pressed. "What was his name?"

"I wouldn't know," Heero responded haughtily. "I didn't ask."

"Of course you didn't," Relena gave a sigh of long suffering and mentally berated herself for having dared to hope. "But if you don't mind my saying so, it wouldn't have hurt you to find out what the gentleman wanted."

"I know what the gentleman wanted, Relena," Heero answered disdainfully. "You'll find it in Balzac [7]."

"Well, excuse me for living, but I never read it," Relena muttered.

"Neither has anyone else in this town --" Heero began in evident frustration.

Relena only shook her head. "There you go again with the same old comment about the low mentality of River City people, and taking it all too much to heart."

"As long as the Madison Public Library was entrusted to me for the purpose of improving River City's cultural level, I can't help my concern that the people of River City keep ignoring all my council and advice," Heero retorted as he listened to Noin's practicing in the background.

"But, Heero, when a woman's got a husband, and a man's got a wife, and you've got neither why should they take advise from you? Even if you can quote Balzac and Shakespeare and all those other high faluting Greeks?" Relena returned.

"Relena, if you don't mind my saying so, you have a bad habit of changing every subject."

"Now, I haven't changed the subject," she protested. "I was talking about that stranger."

"What stranger?"

"With the suitcase. Who may be your very last chance."

Heero looked mildly insulted. "Do you honestly think that I'd allow a --" he broke off angrily and took a deep, calming breath before continuing. "Now, really, Relena! I have my standards where men are concerned, and I have no intention of --"

"Oh, I know all about your standards, cousin," Relena interrupted in evident frustration. "And if you don't mind me saying so, there's not a man alive who could hope to measure up to that blend of Paul Bunyan, Saint Pat and Noah Webster that you've concocted for yourself out of your endless imagination, Iowa stubbornness, and that library full of books!"

Heero was barely aware of Noin finishing her scales as he scowled at Relena. "Well, if that isn't the best I've ever heard," he shot back indignantly.

He would have said more, but it was at that moment that Noin stood from the piano bench and curtsied. "Thank you," she said.

Heero blinked in surprise and looked at Relena in confusion, but his cousin merely shrugged.

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[1]. _Billiards _was played with three balls (one cue ball and two object balls) on a pocketless table. The game of _Pool_ developed much later than billiards and used a cue ball and 15 object balls on a table with six pockets

[2]. The term "pinch-back suit" came from the word pinchbeck, meaning something serving as an imitation or substitute. "pinchbeck heroism" n : an alloy of copper and zinc that is used in cheap jewelry to imitate gold. Made of pinchbeck; sham; cheap; spurious; unreal.

[3]. Jasper = any male fellow, usually a stranger.

[4]. A trotting race was one with a horse that trots, especially one trained for harness racing, and was considered a very genteel pastime. In a horse race a jockey actually rode on the back of the horse, running much quicker than the trotting race. 

[5]. A style of jazz characterized by elaborately syncopated rhythm in the melody and a steadily accented accompaniment.

[6]. Full breeches gathered and banded just below the knee (which is why moving them above the knee is such a shocking thing to do! ^^;;)

[7]. 1799-1850. French writer and a founder of the realist school of fiction. Among the great masters of the novel. Half starving in a Paris garret, he began his career by writing sensational novels to order under a pseudonym. His great work, called The Human Comedy, written over a 20-year period, is a collection of novels and stories recreating French society of the time, picturing in precise detail individuals of every class and profession.

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Dragon Lady: ***breathes again* **_Whew. _

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Trowa: _Oh, come on dl, it didn't take that much effort to get one little chapter out. _

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Dragon Lady: ***sighs* **_You wouldn't think so. But when you're working on twenty million different stories at once…_**o.o;;**

Ken: _Your problem, not ours._

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Dragon Lady: ***sarcastically* **_Oh, thanxs, that makes me feel so UNDERappreciated. _**-.-**

Trowa:** ///_^;;;**

Ken: ***shrugs***

Dragon Lady: _Well…there's the second chapter, if anyone really cares. I guess I should get to working on more stories now. _

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Trowa: _Yes._

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Dragon Lady: _Thanks for your time, mina._

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Ken: _Drop us a review, please. _

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Dragon Lady:_ And then I'll see what can be done about chapter three. _**^.~ **


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